Zachary Scott
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Chapter 110 - Strong Foundations
🕑 Added 2025-07-01 19:10:12 +0000 UTCIt was only three days until the tournament, but right now, my mind was on the guild hall.
“The final gold piece has been contributed,” Hoot announced, his cosmic voice reverberating through the guild hall as I handed over the last coin needed for our task. “The treasury expansion task has been completed! All members will immediately exit their rooms and bear witness!”
Hoot raised his semi-transparent wings, magic dust trailing in their wake. His beak opened in a silent shout, eyes wide with rage or exultation—I honestly wasn't sure which. Pebble vibrated in fear, rolling to rest on top of my boot.
The personal space doors through the guild hall all slammed open with sudden force, ejecting their owners unceremoniously.
Perch rolled out and skidded to a stop in a half kneel, glaring as he looked around, daggers already drawn. Kass slid on his stomach, legs curled up behind him like a scorpion tail before he bonked his head into a chair leg.
Bloody Steve was nearly naked, wearing only an animal print speedo-style set of underwear that barely contained copious amounts of body hair. He caught himself mid-ejection, did a little flip, and landed proudly, fists on his hips as he surveyed the scene.
Lyria cushioned her fall with a Wind Wall, which flipped her once before she cut it off and landed smoothly on her feet.
“What has owl boy so godsdamned excited?” Bloody Steve asked. “He find out he's actually got a pecker under all that dimensional fat?”
“Sorry,” I said. “I didn't realize he was going to make such a big deal out of this. I turned in the last gold and finished the treasury expansion task. We're going to get 'tier 1 functionality,' whatever that means.”
“Silence!” Hoot roared, and all the personal space doors slammed shut. “You will all witness and observe the majesty of the tier 1 functionality improvements.” His beak closed, narrowing until he was letting out a slow hissing noise, waving his wings in what looked like unnecessarily grand movements.
Lyria came up beside me, her hair still wet as if she'd just showered. “Is he making his own sound effects?”
“I think so,” I sighed.
Still hissing and whistling, Hoot pointed both wings toward a far wall. Golden dust and sparkles exploded from the ground creating a curtain of magic that obscured everything. Moments later, it fell, revealing a new doorway.
“Oh, wow,” I said, taking a step toward it.
“Wait,” Hoot whispered. “There is more.”
He was still doing his thing when I heard the main door to the personal space open again. A few grommets waddled in, led by Grimbo and Timbo. As usual, they were filthy and trailing dirt everywhere, but Hoot was too busy doing whatever he was doing to pay them much mind.
“This is quite the show,” Kass noted. “Oh, hey grommets.”
“Hey ho,” Grimbo said, stopping beside me with his group of friends.
Timbo made a slow, growling noise of appreciation as he stroked his white beard. He had the hood of his white and red robe pulled high to shield his face. With his newly gained levels, he seemed to be really leaning into the “grommet badass” aesthetic. I liked it.
He ruined the moment slightly by lifting his gnarled staff to his face and taking a casual bite out of it, chewing loudly. “He is... throwing a tantrum, yes?” Timbo asked.
“New guild functionality,” I explained.
“Ohhh,” Grimbo said. “Mr. Hoot. You will wait while more friends come to watch? We like to watch.”
“Silence!” Hoot roared, and he seemed to be using some kind of magic to amplify his voice, because it boomed through the hall and vibrated in my chest.
Lyria sighed impatiently. “I still need to finish getting ready. Did he say how long this is going to take?”
“I didn't even know this was going to happen. You can try to leave if you're not afraid of being smitten.”
She folded her arms, watching with obviously growing annoyance.
“Feck it!” Bloody Steve said, throwing his arms up and heading for the new room while Hoot continued his interpretive dance and sound effects. “I'm checking out the new room. Owl boy can—”
“You will wait and witness!” Hoot roared, and a blast of the same golden sparks erupted from thin air, smashing into Bloody Steve and sending him flying like a ragdoll to crash into more virgin wood furniture, snapping a table in half.
“Hah!” Bloody Steve shouted, his voice muffled from distance and shards of furniture. “Is that all you got, you overgrown turd?”
I didn't look, but heard and felt more magic in Bloody Steve's direction.
Finally, after what seemed like way too long, Hoot gestured toward another wall and repeated the same process as before. When he was done, there were two new doorways leading to brand new rooms.
“It is done,” he whispered.
“Thank the feckin gods,” Bloody Steve said, brushing wood from his bare chest. “I was taking a shit when you ejected me out here. Nobody interrupts my morning shit. You hear me, owl boy?”
“I am choosing not to hear you,” Hoot said, puffing up with indignity.
“What are those?” Kass asked. He ran a hand through his shoulder-length, golden hair, looking every bit like a supermodel with his chiseled features and broad build. “New spots for personal spaces, or something?”
“I don't think so,” I said, already approaching.
Lyria, Kass, Perch, and the small swarm of grommets followed me.
I peered inside the closest of the two doorways. Within, there was a large square room about forty feet on each side with a ceiling that stretched up into darkness. The floor was divided into sections: sand, stone, grass, and even a small area of what looked like ice. Training dummies lined one wall, but these weren't the simple wooden constructs I'd bought for my personal space.
There was also a magical domed sphere covering the sandy area, and if I wasn't mistaken, it looked just like the one in the aspirant's guild that prevented lethal damage when sparring. Oddest of all, there was a pedestal with a thick wooden book sitting on top of it along with a quill and inkwell.
“Reactive training dummies,” Hoot explained. “They will adapt to your combat patterns, providing increasing challenge as you improve. Tier 1 models can simulate up to Wood rank opponents. When we achieve Tier 2, they'll simulate Iron ranks and gain ability to use basic magic patterns.”
“This is incredible,” I said.
The grommets rushed into the room, working as a team to ambush one of the training dummies. Grimbo was biting it low while Timbo whacked it high with his half-eaten staff. Almost half of his swings ended up hitting innocent grommets, sending them flying to either side where they lay unconscious.
“Should we stop them?” Lyria asked.
“Nah,” I said. “They look like they're having fun.”
Even Pebble had joined in, ramming himself into the training dummy again and again.
“This is the guild training area. I took the liberty of assuming you would like this most out of the choices that were available.”
I raised an eyebrow, turning to look at him. “We had choices? And you just picked for us?”
“No,” Hoot said, tilting up his beak with pride. “The astral custodian has choices. You are destined to adhere to the whims of your custodian in these matters. If treated well, astral custodians can be expected to choose upgrades that suit the needs and desires of the guildmaster and the guild members. If treated poorly, the astral custodian can be expected to do... otherwise.”
A loud thwack drew my attention as Timbo stood victorious in front of the training dummy and several grommets—Grimbo included—slowly pulled themselves to their feet.
“I see,” I said slowly. “Well, I'm grateful you chose a training room. This will be a big improvement over trying to practice in my personal space. There's a lot more room here, and we can more easily train together. But what's with the book?”
“I believe you will enjoy this. Come,” Hoot said.
The book was open to a blank page in the middle, but when I flipped to the first page I saw words that looked handwritten in black ink.
Training Hall (Tier 1): Experience gains improved by 15% when training within this room.
I pursed my lips. “Wow. Yeah, that's great. Training is slow as hell when we're not fighting in life-or-death situations, so anything will help.”
“Interesting,” Kass said as he leaned over my shoulder to read. “I'm growing more thankful by the day that you let us join your guild, Brynn.”
“Yeah, no worries. Just complete the final guild task and bump the guild to Tier 2 and we'll call it even.”
Kass grinned. “Cleanse an infestation, defeat a dungeon guardian, or place in the top five of a major city tournament? I was hoping you would figure those out yourself. I believe all three tasks are above my paygrade.”
“Hmm,” I said. “Maybe I can get Timbo to become an official member and do them for us.”
Lyria narrowed her eyes. “Please don't give that thing any ideas. I think you're really starting to convince him he's powerful.”
“Give him time,” I said, then looked to Hoot. “Why is this book so big?”
“Write the name of a creature you've vanquished,” Hoot said.
I realized there was a quill and inkwell beside the book, so I picked up the quill, dipped it, and thought for a second before writing “Rootling.” The ink sunk into the center of the page, and then reappeared at the top in more elegant handwriting. A sketch of a rootling began to appear, and then I heard Lyria gasp.
I looked up and saw a phantasmal form of a rootling appearing in the room.
“What the hell?” I asked, watching it take shape, solidify, and then begin rolling toward me, gaining speed.
Timbo let out a manly cry of alarm, diving to land hard on his stomach, staff clattering out of reach.
Kass drew his daggers.
I rose a Mana Shield in front of the Rootling, stopping it in its tracks. A moment later, gold thread attached to it and the thing became a pincushion, falling and fading to ethereal mist.
I looked to Perch, who gave a slight nod and moved to retrieve his arrows, which had landed softly on the ground once the rootling vanished.
When I looked back at the page, it had filled in with more information about rootlings, mirroring the tooltip I'd seen way back in the Black Wood about how they could eventually form into rootkings and rootlords, as well as the average rank and level they tended to be.
I looked to Hoot. “Holy shit. So I can write any creature's name in here and fight a version of it? Can they hurt me?”
“They cannot hurt you. And you will not gain experience like you would in a real fight. But you can practice safely against any creature you have vanquished here without fear. Shall we head to the meditation room, next?”
I was smiling already as I thought through how huge this training room would be for my progress. I'd be able to come back here and work out strategies if I knew I was going to be facing the same enemy multiple times. And what about people? I supposed the “vanquished” part implied I'd have to kill them to be able to fight their mirror, but would my victory over Rake count? Being able to practice against him would be a gigantic boon.
But I was already following Hoot to the next room, along with our procession of grommets and guildmates.
“You will note there is still room for improvement,” Hoot said. I could tell from his tone he was deeply enjoying himself. “The hall itself will grow when it reaches Tier 2, but so will the rooms we've added. May I suggest completing the final task with great haste, dimensional guild master?”
“Yeah, thanks for the suggestion, Hoot. But unless I place top five in this tourney, it's going to be a bit. And from everything I've been hearing, I should be happy to just survive the tournament.”
“Hm,” Hoot said, gesturing for me to head into the meditation chamber. “Then perhaps this tourney is a waste of your time and effort?”
“No,” I said firmly. “It's the only way I can see of having a chance to help our friends who are stuck participating. So it's happening. Getting top five would just be a nice boost.”
“Very well,” Hoot said. “I have learned the uselessness of trying to convince humans to make logically sound decisions. I will not press the issue further. If you will please admire the meditation room, now.”
The space beyond the archway was circular, maybe twenty feet in diameter, with a domed ceiling that showed a slowly swirling cosmos of stars. The floor was covered in concentric circles of different materials—wood, stone, metal, and what looked like crystallized mana.
“Holy shit,” Lyria whispered. “I can feel it already. The mana here is... thicker?”
“Concentrated,” Hoot corrected, standing in the doorway behind us as the grommets slid past him.
Timbo used his staff to try to hammer a piece of crystallized mana from the floor. Grimbo got low and tried to chew on it.
“Would you please ask the hairy pests to stop doing that?” Hoot said, eyes closed as if his frustration was becoming a part of his very being.
“Easy, Grimbo. Cool it, Timbo,” I said.
Both grommets eyed me, then got up and settled for staring longingly at the floor instead of actually assaulting it.
“Anyway,” Hoot continued. “This sanctum draws ambient mana from the dimensional space and focuses it. Meditation here will be more effective than in standard conditions. Additionally, the more you meditate here, the thicker the mana will become.”
“Wait... so if we all use this place, it'll just keep working better?” I asked.
“Precisely. I can continue to explain in increasingly simpler language, if that is preferable for your undersized meat brain? Use this room. Mana come fast,” Hoot said.
Lyria was staring at the room with clear excitement. “I like this place.”
“Yeah,” I said, nodding my agreement. “We need to all make sure we're using it at least some every day. With the training room next door, we should all be able to make progress much faster than before.”
I was especially excited for Lyria. I knew she'd been frustrated with her mana capacity issues. Even with Minara's help and my attempts at teaching her my meditation techniques, she'd hit a wall. Maybe this would help.
And I knew it would help me experiment more with my Mana Bender's Raiment.
We spent a while longer getting familiar with the new facilities. Bloody Steve even emerged eventually with more clothes and set to immediately pummeling training dummies with his hammers. Kass played with the tome by summoning some kind of baby-sized zombie thing he'd apparently fought at some point. The grommets screamed with glee, running away from the thing as it chased them around the training room before Kass eventually planted arrows between its eyes.
Lyria was fast at work in the meditation room, sitting with her eyes closed.
I put the chaos out of my mind, knowing I had several hours before I was due at the Aspirant's Guild. It was the perfect amount of time to work on something that had been nagging at me.
I stepped into the center of the room and summoned Pebble again, who materialized with his usual enthusiastic roll. “Ready to help me figure something out, buddy?”
He vibrated in agreement.
For the past week, I'd been on the edge of a breakthrough with Mana Shield. The ability had served me well, but I knew there was more potential locked inside it. Every night during my practice sessions, I'd felt it like a word on the tip of my tongue or a song I couldn't quite remember. I was almost certain it meant I was nearing Tier 3, which I knew would unlock an option to choose an evolution to specialize the ability.
“Okay,” I said, creating a basic Mana Shield in front of me. “Let's start simple.”
I formed the shield—a flat plane of blue energy about three feet square. This was the basic version, what I'd been using since I first learned the skill. It could block attacks, sure, but all that kinetic energy had to go somewhere. Usually, that meant the shield cracked or shattered, absorbing the impact.
But what if it didn't have to absorb it at all?
I touched the shield, feeling the mana structure with senses that had grown sharper over weeks of practice. The pattern was like a net, designed to catch and disperse energy. But nets weren't the only way to deal with force.
“Pebble, I need you to hit this shield when I tell you. Not too hard—just enough to test something.”
Pebble rolled back, somehow conveying determination despite being a rock.
I began modifying the shield's structure. It wasn't exactly the weave technique I'd learned from Lyria. It was something else. Like I was fundamentally changing the structure of the spell instead of modifying it for efficiency or strength. I was trying to push some of my intention into the mana itself, nudging it in a direction it resisted at first. Slowly but surely, I thought I could feel it starting to click into place.
I tried to influence the mana not to resist force, but to redirect it. To reflect it.
“Now,” I said.
Pebble launched himself at the shield. The impact sent him bouncing backward—not much, but definitely more than normal. I was onto something.
For the next hour, I experimented. Each iteration brought me closer to what I was looking for. The breakthrough came when I stopped thinking of the shield as a solid object and started thinking of it as an active force. Almost like one of my many summons. Thinking of it like a being allowed me to communicate more clearly with it, and I thought I could finally sense the message landing home loud and clear within the mana.
“One more time, Pebble. Give it everything you've got.”
The little guy rolled back to the far wall, spun in place to build momentum, and rocketed toward the modified shield. This time, when he hit, the shield flashed white and Pebble ricocheted off at nearly the same speed he'd approached, slamming into the padded wall behind him.
“Yes!” I pumped my fist as Pebble rolled back, unharmed and full of apparent excitement.
[Skill Tier Increased. Mana Shield has reached (Tier 3)]
The feeling hit me suddenly—that same sensation I'd experienced back in Beastden when Forge Echo first evolved. Something in my core stirred, like a door opening in my mind.
I closed my eyes, letting the knowledge wash over me. Two distinct paths appeared in my awareness, each one carrying its own understanding.
The first path showed my shields becoming nearly unbreakable. I could feel how the mana would reinforce itself, creating layers upon layers of protection that would cost far less to maintain. Shields that could weather storms of magic and steel alike.
The second path was what I'd been working toward—shields that didn't just block, but returned violence to its source. I could sense the complexity of it, how I'd need to consciously choose between absorption and reflection with each casting.
The choice felt obvious. I'd trained for this, pushed toward this specific evolution.
Looking back, I could think of several situations where more sturdy shields would have been great to have. I had to layer several Mana Shields in a row back in Beastden to keep the nightmaws away for my Silver Scream arrows to fill them with enough liquid to be deadly, for example. What if I could’ve done the same with one or two shields?
But durability was something I could get by simply spending more mana. Reflection was an entirely new capability I couldn’t currently get out of my shields, no matter how much mana I dumped into them.
It made the choice seem fairly obvious. Without too much deliberation, I willed the evolution into place and read the new tooltip.
[Rare] Active Skill: Mana Shield. [Tier 3] Create a barrier of pure mana
[Forge Echo Evolution(s)] [Reflective Barrier] Mana Shield can redirect a portion of physical and magical attacks.
“Good work, buddy,” I said, picking up Pebble. “I’m going to ask Deborah to help me test this thing out, though. You take a rest.”
After some brief instructions” Deborah was laying into my new Reflective Barrier Mana Shields with her scythe-like arm blades. Her blonde hair thrashed from side to side as she launched her mantis body at the shield again and again.
With the evolution, the barrier flared red when struck. Instead of simply stopping Deborah’s strikes, they bounced back, throwing her off balance and nearly causing her to slice off limbs a few times. Thankfully, if I had enough mana to resummon her, she came back fully repaired. My summons didn’t actually have mana pools I could use to Devour Mana and heal them, and they didn’t show any benefits when I sprayed them with Healing Potions.
I spent another hour practicing with the new evolution, dodging laughing grommets, helping Kass figure out the finer points of the summoning tome (which was what we were calling the book on the pedestal), and having a blast fighting against the reactive training dummies.
The dummies started simple. They looked like segmented wooden mannequins, but once you engaged them in combat, they animated and fought back, starting with just basic melee attacks. Interestingly, they did show some ability to adapt to my attack patterns and learn. By the end of the hour, I was facing three at once, using a combination of reflective and absorbing shields to redirect their attacks into each other.
And I was still level 5. The number had been sitting there for weeks now, stubbornly refusing to budge despite all my training. But I could feel the experience building, like pressure behind a dam. The tournament would break that dam—I was sure of it.
Footsteps interrupted my thoughts long after the grommets, Kass, Perch, and the others had all grown tired and moved on from the training room.
I was dripping sweat from beneath my helmet and itching for a shower, but knew I still had a little time before I needed to leave for the guild and wanted to make the most of it. Lyria stood there, looking exhausted but satisfied.
“How'd it go?” I asked.
“I think I figured something out,” she said. “That room is amazing. I could actually feel my mana channels for the first time. They're not straight lines like yours—they spiral. That's why the pulsing technique works. I'm not fighting against the flow anymore.”
“That's great! Did you—”
“Level 48,” she said with a small smile. “Finally. At this rate, I might actually hit 50 before I die of old age.”
“You leveled up just from meditating?” I asked. “Is that possible?”
Lyria shrugged. “Apparently. Because I just did it.”
“That’s insane. Congratulations. Want to see something cool?” I asked, eager to share my breakthrough.
I demonstrated the new Reflective Shield evolution, having one of the training dummies shoot round wooden projectiles at me. Each one bounced back with near-perfect efficiency, peppering the dummy with its own attacks as long as I angled the shield just right.
“That's terrifying,” Lyria said. “In a good way. Imagine using that against Naia's fireballs.”
“Exactly. I tested it with my own magic and the angles can be a little hard to get just right. But it also means the shields can stop way more punishment, even if I don’t aim the counter-attack perfectly. “Were you planning to get some practice in?” I asked.
“Maybe later. I need food first. And you need to check your supplies. Tournament's in three days, Brynn. You ready?”
“There’s no way to know,” I admitted. “We don’t even know if we’ll be selected by the guild. And there’s no telling if we get to bring items and equipment in with us.”
And yet I still found myself mentally cataloging everything I had.
My potion collection had grown substantially over the past weeks. Each one was carefully stored in the preservation vials from Valdas's shop, labeled and organized on the shelf in my personal space. My Alchemist’s Kit could keep one potion from spoiling seemingly forever, but the vials only postponed the inevitable. It was why I hadn’t blown more of my money buying every ingredient I could afford.
But I was doing my best to keep my arsenal loaded and ready to go, saving some raw ingredients because those lasted longer than the actual potions once I used my kit to brew them.
I had combat potions like Dragon's Tail for liquid fire, Bombroot for explosions, Viperlilly for poison, Frost Finger for ice, and several others with various effects. Some created sound dampening, others visual distortion or temporary armor. I'd even splurged on a few Quicksilver Drafts for speed boosts, though the alchemist had warned me about tremors and impaired coordination after the effects wore off.
For utility, I'd stocked up on more ingredients to make Healing Potions, too.
“Getting there,” I said.
“And you need to figure out which abilities you're going to reveal,” Lyria added. “You can't hide everything in the tournament. Not if you want to win.”
She was right. I'd been thinking about this constantly. My current public persona showed only Mana Shield—now with an additional reflection capability I'd keep secret until I needed it—Elemental Spike with ice only, and basic combat skills.
But I had so much more. Elemental Chain and its Cloudfall evolution, Forge Echo, Devour Mana, Awaken Mana, Abyssal Step from my boots, my Mana Bender's Raiment, Silver Scream bow, the Duelist's Band, and all my passives and currently unequipped class skills.
“I'll reveal what I need to when I need to,” I said. “No more, no less.”
“And the dark mana?” she asked quietly.
“Last resort only. If it comes down to my life or maintaining my cover... well, I'd rather be alive and exposed than dead and mysterious.”
“How is learning to control it going, by the way? You’ve been suspiciously quiet about that.”
I had. And it was only because I’d learned no amount of control kept the Burned Man from being able to communicate once I released a certain amount of dark mana into my body. Worse, he had seemed far more amicable and willing to cooperate lately. At times, I even found myself thinking he sounded downright reasonable.
But I kept reminding myself that he was highly motivated to manipulate me. The dark mana was a last-ditch tool to save my ass in combat, and it was a highly convenient way to keep my cursed bedroll fed on dark mana without needing to spend my life in dungeons.
“It’s going well,” I said. “I haven’t seen my Iron Boons get stronger yet, but I’m sure it’ll eventually kick in and increase my resistance to the dark mana. Maybe when I hit Silver.”
“When you hit Silver, huh? Mr. Level Five?”
I grinned. “Talk to me again after the tourney. When I hit Silver,” I repeated.
She rolled her eyes, but smiled. “Anyway. I’m going to grab breakfast. You coming?”
“In a bit. Want to test a few more things first.”
After she left, I returned to my personal space. The room had grown comfortable over the weeks of use. My shelf of potions gleamed in the light, each vial a potential game-changer. The training dummy bore scars from countless practice sessions. Gregory's “accident corner” had been thoroughly cleaned, though I swore I could still smell it sometimes.
I sat on my floor and pulled out the comm card Cassian had given me back in Beastden.
When I saw him on my way out of Beastden, he implied there was something he wanted my help with. Something he’d contact me about when I was “strong enough.” Supposedly, by then, I’d be strong enough to simply kill him if he wanted to betray me. But what the hell was it?
I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought of reaching out to him. But I hadn’t.
Something about the man had given me chills, and I hardly needed more trouble on my plate for the moment.
A knock at my door interrupted my brooding. “It's open,” I called.
Gregory stiffened as the door swung open. I'd been keeping him summoned more often lately, trying to build his combat reflexes. He saluted as Bloody Steve stumbled in, reeking of ale.
“Guildmaster!” he boomed. “Got news!”
“Good or bad?”
“Depends on your perspective!” He swayed slightly, then his expression grew more serious. “Remember that asshole you asked me to keep a lookout for? The stabby fella who gave you trouble in Beastden? Rook?”
“Rake?” I asked, blood going cold. “What about him?”
“Right. Rake. Well, one of my drinking buddies moonlights as a guard near the tourney registration building. He swears he saw someone matching his description yesterday. Apparently got in a fight at a tavern nearby later that night. Cut a poor bastard to ribbons and my friend said even the shadows were joining the fight. Sound like your bastard?”
I nodded slowly. “Yeah. That’s probably him. He signed up for the tourney?”
“Yep.”
“Shit,” I muttered. Rake was Level 50 Iron and had a very personal grudge against me. In the chaos of a tournament, he'd have the perfect opportunity for revenge.
“Gets better,” Steve continued. “That Aspirant girl who's been sniffing around you? Naia? She's in the tavern asking if anybody has seen you. Sounds like she wants to be invited to your personal space. If you don't want her, I'll give her a good rammin'. She's plump in all the right places, if I say so meself.”
“Steve, focus. You're sure about Rake?”
“Sure enough. My source doesn’t lie when he’s in his cups.” Steve scratched his beard. “Also, I think I caught something last week when I was whoring. So wash your hands after bein' around me for... the time bein'.”
I flinched back. “Good to know...”
“Anywho. I was thinking about joining the tourney myself after hearing about Rake... then I decided... nah. I'll just watch from the sidelines. Keep the guild hall in order while you're away. Someone needs to make sure that cosmic chicken doesn’t get out of hand..”
“Thanks for the warning about Rake,” I said, mind already racing through the implications. It was hard to really “plan” for the tourney when I had no idea what form it would take. But knowing Rake would be involved…
My chest tightened. Last time we fought, I'd barely survived with everyone’s help and nearly overdosing on dark mana. Now I'd have to face him while being watched by tens of thousands…
For the first time, I seriously considered if I could really afford to do this. I knew it was currently the best opportunity for immediate and fast-paced advancement. Winning wouldn’t just mean noble titles that could propel me to even greater heights more quickly, it would mean rewards. Money I could use to get stronger and get a leg up on the other prestiged gods. And it would bump the dimensional guild to Tier 2, which would have benefits I could only guess at.
It shouldn’t have mattered against all of that, but it would also mean knowing I did what I could to try to help the escaped slaves. Turning back now would leave a scar I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to fully ignore.
I decided this felt like what I would do. So far, leaning toward what felt like a “me” choice had served me well. And I had to assume that was what I’d done on my first trip to godhood.
“You good, Helmet?” Bloody Steve asked, leaning closer with one eye slightly wider than the other. “You went all still like that Gregory fella does. You about to shit yourself?”
“I’m fine,” I said. “Thanks for the warning about Rake.”
“Sure thing. Good luck in that tourney, by the way. Hope you don’t die, because this place is really nice. I assume we lose access if you get yourself gutted, right?”
“Not sure,” I said.
“Hmm. Yeah, well, try not to die.” Steve turned and headed out my door, leaving me alone with my racing thoughts.
If he was right and Rake was going to join the tourney, it was frankly terrifying. I just didn’t know if it actually changed anything on my end. I still needed to train as much as I could in these final days. I still needed to keep my guard up. So, for now, I’d just think of Rake as yet another wrinkle in an already wrinkly bag of potential death.
I left my personal space and found Hoot dusting my mounted trophies, paying special attention to the wooden wings I'd earned for advancing to Iron.
“The hall feels different,” I said, looking around and taking in how much it had grown in a few short weeks.
“It is different,” Hoot replied without turning. “We stand on the precipice of evolution. When you complete your Proof of Glory, the transformation will be... significant.”
“Any hints about what Tier 2 brings?”
“That would spoil the surprise. But I will say this: what you see now is merely the foundation. A seed waiting to bloom.” He turned, fixing me with those cosmic eyes. “You are planning to place in the top five of the tournament, I assume?”
“Planning to win it, if I’m being honest. And yes, I know it’s supposed to be impossible. But what’s the point of aiming for less?”
“Ambitious. The odds are astronomically against you.”
“Good thing I've never been very good at math.”
Hoot made that sound I'd learned was his version of laughter. “Indeed. Will you be revealing your true nature during the competition?”
“My true nature?”
“The thing you hide beneath that helmet. The reason your mana resonates with frequencies that should not exist in a mere Iron rank.”
I tensed, eyes narrowing. “What are you saying, exactly?”
“I am an Astral Custodian. I know many things. But your secrets are safe with me. Guild confidentiality is sacred.” He returned to his dusting. “Though I would suggest you prepare for the possibility of exposure. Secrets have a way of revealing themselves under pressure.”
He was right, of course. In the chaos of the tournament, maintaining my facade would be nearly impossible. It wouldn't be the first time I'd been under pressure, of course, but it would be the largest number of eyes I'd ever had on me. But I'd deal with that when I had to.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of preparation. Between training at the Aspirant's Guild, more shopping, some gambling on Vice, and trying not to think about Rake lurking somewhere in the city, I barely noticed the hours slipping by.
By the time I returned to the guild hall that night, I was exhausted but oddly grateful for the chaos that greeted me. It was a welcome distraction from my growing dread of the increasingly dangerous prospect of the tourney.
I dodged grommets, who were already working on delivering the next round of wood for Tier 2 furnishing improvements and tracking filth in their wake.
After a few quick words with my allies, I retreated to my personal space, utterly exhausted but happy in knowing I hadn’t wasted any time in my day. I was maximizing each hour. I still needed to draw dark mana and feed it to my bedroll tonight, to endure the manipulative conversations I knew I’d have with the Burned Man.
But all I could think about was the tournament and how soon it would come. As long as I didn’t suffer any major setbacks in the Aspirant’s Guild, I should be chosen to participate, along with Lyria.
And then we’d be in some sort of deadly competition with the best fighters Thrask and the surrounding areas had to offer. I’d need to find some way to protect the escaped slaves, if that was even possible. During it all, I would also need to figure out how the hell I could keep my real identity secret.
It would be over soon enough, one way or another. I’d either die trying, or come out a hell of a lot stronger on the other end.
Comments
Ben Bass
TYFTC! I love the improvements to the guild hall, that is definitely going to help everyone improve, and also share out the information that Brynn has for critters that he gets from Voidgaze. Hoot does bring up a good point, what will Brynn do if his identity is revealed during the tournament, which wouldn't be a stretch if he actually wins it.
Jouni Osmala
Kind of an expecting Ithrael to save Brynn from something during the tournament. And keeping the cover saying "Hello Brynn." and Brynn answering something along the lines of "Hi Jake, long time no see.". And everyone being flabber gasted by someone using such a familiar language with Ithrael and using a name that people don't know with Ithrael. Anyway. Maybe he can keep the cover, maybe not.
Akkido
Timbo, the eventual Grommet God.
William Hein
Glad to see you back! All caught up now, thanks for the chapter!
